The hardest thing I’ve done (like harder than the bar exam)

On Tuesday before Christmas, we got some heartbreakingly hard and unexpected news. We got through the kids’ holiday concert with smiles on our faces and the very next day Tim left town to be where he was needed the most.

I was going to head out later in the week to join him, once I packed up everything for Christmas and the kids (traveling with kids means packing more bags than you even thought was possible).

But, mother nature had different plans for us with a freezing storm that made it unsafe, if not impossible, to drive out of town. The kids and I weren’t going anywhere.

Winter-stormed-in with the kids sound asleep, I turned on the new season of Emily In Paris and started to tackle Christmas wrapping solo. It was all going well (as well as it can go when you wrap like a five year old. Wrapping has never been a “gift” of mine)… until I stumbled upon Yasi’s dollhouse.

The dollhouse was my “great idea” for a Christmas present that would knock her socks off on Christmas morning. It was a beautiful wooden abode that I pictured her playing with for hours on end.

What I didn’t picture was the assembly.

Normally this is Tim’s wheelhouse. He loves a project. I figured he’d throw it together, no problem.

With Tim away (exactly where he needed to be), I considered leaving it for the elves to build on Christmas Eve but didn’t want to risk it.

What ensued was hours of trying to use a too-big screwdriver on too-tiny screws. Many FaceTime calls to Tim. My first experience with a power tool. A scream/cry/laugh combo I had never heard out of my own mouth before. And, even the sweetest group text offer from our dear friend Evan to come pick up the pieces and put it together for me.

When I tell you I spent hours but zero screws were screwed, I am being literal.

I decided to wave the white flag. I WAS DONE.

While cleaning up and putting the scissors from wrapping back in the kitchen drawer, I saw it: the exact screwdriver I needed.

The little cross was the exact same cross as all those too-tiny screws.

And, HALLELUJAH it worked!!

Suddenly, I was Annette Bening in American Beauty, with “I will sell this house today” energy.

I was rocking and rolling. I was cooking with gas. I was off to the races.

[Insert any other saying here, but I was BUILDING THE FRICKING HOUSE!!].

Now, this doll house still took me close to six more hours to build (aka the entire new season of Emily In Paris).

But, I did it!!

It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Literally harder than the bar exam. I was so proud of myself.

And, the only reason it went from “this is so hard, it is impossible for me to do” to “this is so hard, and I rose to the challenge and did it!!” was one important thing:

I had the right tool.

We all need the right tools for the work ahead.

Whatever beautiful wooden abodes you’re building in your life right now, you need the right tool(s).

P.s. If you’re looking to have a more joyful intuitive relationship with movement, looking to build up more self-compassion, trust, and connection, looking for a challenge that feels loving at the same time, or looking to create a movement practice that you can do in your PJ’s with a cup of coffee nearby… I’ve got a pretty epic tool for you here 😉

xo, Sim

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